


Anhedonia, Isolation and Lack of Artistic Inspiration

by terracotta_heartbreak



Category: American Idiot - Green Day/Armstrong
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, F/M, Gen, M/M, Sadness, Smoking, The Couch - Freeform, yeet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 06:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14396460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terracotta_heartbreak/pseuds/terracotta_heartbreak
Summary: Snippets of mundane suburban life as seen by the one who was left behind.





	Anhedonia, Isolation and Lack of Artistic Inspiration

He couldn’t sleep properly.

It wasn’t on purpose, of course. He just had trouble sleeping.

Not the standard nightmares, it was nothing like that, but Will’s sleeping pattern had become almost as unstable as his drinking patterns. Almost like there was correlation.

Looking as if it’d been thrown into the floor, the broken watch he rarely wore claimed the time to be around 6- no, 12am.

 _F_ _ucking typical_.

Groaning, the young man pulled his blanket a little higher up to his face, trying to think why he might’ve woken up so soon this time. Being on the couch and fully clothed, he figured he must’ve passed out in the afternoon and Heather’d set the blanket on him. And if anything, the small pyramid of empty bottles which might’ve contained beer at some point just proved his theory.

As was the standard with nights like this, he didn’t bother getting up, and just curled his body further into the blanket. For the scrap it was, this brown, washed-out shag served him well, like his own best friend.

Not like he had one of those anymore.

Johnny and Tunny had left a month ago now, to Will’s memory, and he’d only been sent one postcard in this time. Will had tried his hardest to make reasons up for these rejections, to remind himself they were probably busy and having too much fun to remember him, but honestly Will was just worried. In his short postcard (he couldn’t even consider it a letter) Johnny had gone on about how Tunny slept a lot or something, and Will couldn’t help but feel a kind of bitterness. Why should Tunny get to run away to sleep a lot when he could do that right here, right now with Will?

Maybe he was jealous, but maybe it was something else. Heather was- nice company, of course, but Will had been left to ponder a lot about her and their relationship as of late. Spending time with someone on your own for so long tended to do that. No matter how hard he tried, Will just couldn’t bring himself to feel happy, especially about their kid, and it showed in his face these days.

These days Will’s dark eyes were permanently etched with dark shadows, though it wasn’t because of makeup; these days they had a constantly look of sorrow about them and had lost that bright twinkle too. Gone were his smiles and all the warmth they could radiate, and instead his pallid complexion reigned supreme over all. You’d be mistaken for thinking he were a vampire or something if you saw him from afar.

Not that you would.

Will was sure he’d only moved from this spot three times a day on average. Not that he could be bothered to take an average, because if he had the results may’ve been a tad more realistic, after all.

Take the other day, for instance. That day he’d awoken here, not unlike many other days, and he’d gotten up to piss, find his guitar then cane back down. After a few hours of staring at the stupid instrument, he’d cracked, gotten up again to get a few beers and a pot of instant noodles before sitting back down again. Drinking, crying and staring at the blank tv had made up the afternoon and before he knew it he’d fallen asleep again, without accomplishment or anything like that.

It was basically a routine. It was a cold, cruel, twisted version of life that had crippled him past the bars of his house, and he’d soon become a prisoner to this strange lifestyle he’d so desperately wanted to flee.

Will knew his pattern pretty well by now, even though it’d only been a month. All the coffee he’d drink was in some vain attempt to get his brain working or to get him motivated. It never worked. And then all the hours sat pondering over sheets of paper, his guitar or whatever else he could find added to that desperate attempt to find meaning and some form of inspiration. Again, it never worked.

See, a big part of his problem was that Will had been overly- reliant on his friends that he forgot how it felt without them there. When you and people you loved like that were inseparable then something like this separated you, this happened a lot. And Will didn’t exactly think he made much of a person on his own.

In his own eyes, Will was a third of a whole unit, a section of a fairly-decently oiled machine. He was fully aware of his status as ‘the heart’ of a trio and embraced it, but what was his status as a singular person on his own like this?

Nobody.

And as if life was rubbing more salt into his wounds, depression had hit him like a brick to the head, and he still felt dazed and confused from the experience. In his state, there was nothing but the isolating feeling and the drink he’d resort to, and honestly, he saw no coming out of it.

What could Heather do? She was pregnant and seemed so preoccupied with it the pair never really gave each other the time of day. Will was caught up in his own little world and Heather was caught up in baby names and happiness. It’s like they were two poles apart, made worse and worse by how time progressed a bit more and more each day.

Head throbbing a bit with all this pain he brought on himself, Will looked down at the watch again, not really catching a grasp of what the time actually was, but figuring it hadn’t been long at all. Mulling late at night tended to feel longer than it really took. So, however late it was now, he curled himself up and closed his eyes, though admittedly he knew fully well he wouldn’t get to sleep for another few hours and that worry would still be chiselling away at his mind until it disappeared.

But he did know this was going to be a long night.


End file.
